There were 19 reasons why his Eloisa shouldn’t be at a place like Momence—and 19 Ivy Lane was one of them.

Ecko Bane strode up to the modest yet aging home and gave several hard knocks on the door. He could understand why Eloisa had fled California. The wake of bodies she had left behind had forced her into hiding. But he couldn’t understand what had possessed her to move to a place like this.

He’d only arrived in the small town a few hours ago and had heard enough gossip of the blue-eyed “blonde” than an outsider should have. He hadn’t even seen her yet, and already he missed her flaxen curls.

When no answer came, Ecko forced his way into the old house. He knew she was here. Her scent was distinct—along with that of the men trapped inside.

Ecko didn’t have to go far to find the unconscious men, some staring off at nothing and one slumped over a supremely polished table.

He frowned. Eloisa only polished when she was struggling to curb her hunger. The way the wooden table glistened against the afternoon light, she was clearly at her breaking point. She had written him and he’d come, but obviously not in time.

Ecko clenched his teeth, taking in the number of hypnotized men, trying not to think of what she had, or hadn’t, done with them. The men weren’t dead, but they were locked in a deep erotic trance—her way of preserving her hunt.

But they had an agreement, and it didn’t include this. He glanced around the room again. He had one hell of a mess to clean up. Her hunger was getting out of control, and he needed to find her. Fast.

Ecko made his way to the back of the house. It was in the kitchen that he found her, straddling a poor, defenseless mail carrier with her blue dress hiked up just below her round, lush ass. Her head was bent over the man as she held his head steady with both hands.

The familiar jealousy Ecko had once thought himself cured of, returned full force. This was why he could never make her his. Not in the way he wanted, anyway. She couldn’t curb her appetite, and he had never been good at sharing.

With a low growl, he jerked her off the dazed man. She spun around to face him, and her once deep blue eyes were now black with unleashed hunger.

“Lise!” He gave her a small shake. “Baby, snap out of it.”

He knew it was dangerous to stop her during a feeding, and he braced himself for an attack. Instead she blinked up at him, her deceptively calm mask crumbling as her gaze focused on him.

“E?” She glanced back at the mailman then turned back to him. There was remorse in her now dark eyes, but intense hunger still burned bright in them. “I-I’m sorry. I tried to fight it, but… I-I need to feed.”

Ecko stared down at her, his nostrils flaring as his body reacted to her unbridled lust. He understood her struggle even though he didn’t like it. Besides, he had agreed to fulfill her appetite until they could find another way to control her hunger. He wouldn’t deny her now.

Ecko offered no resistance when she jerked him forward and pressed her soft lips against his. His own appetite for her was always insatiable.

Lifting her high, he sat her down on the granite counter and her long legs instantly wrapped around his hips. She didn’t need to use any of her usual tricks on him. He was effortlessly sucked into her erotic spell.

This is what he got for loving the likes of Eloisa Sinclair—my demon witch.

Oblivious to the rain, Victor stood frozen outside Eloisa’s window staring into her home. Men he’d never seen before occupied the seats in her tiny living room. Dressed in black lace which concealed nothing, she served them tea and snacks while the strangers nodded and eyed her with obvious lust.

This was a far different woman than the one who greeted him on his daily mail route. But that wasn’t the only reason he was stunned. Every night in his dreams, the same scandalously clad vixen visited him. It was the same each time. Seductively dressed, she would climb into his bed and do things to him that made him blush to even think about afterwards. Never had he hungered for sleep as much as he had of late. What man wouldn’t? Her ample breasts, full hips and those lips, the beautiful things those lips could do…

Before he finished the thought, her gaze locked with his. Eloisa’s eyes widened with recognition while his face burned with shame. He stepped away only to slip on slick gravel, fall and slam the back of his head against the rocks. A flash of pain shot through him moments before darkness numbed it away.

A few seconds later, the soft drizzle of rain spattered on his face, pulling him out of his uncomfortable slumber. Victor touched the wet, throbbing ache in the back of his neck. That would need to be dealt with, but first he needed to get out of her yard fast. He crawled to his knees and as he rose to his feet, noticed his soaked postal bag lying a few feet away. Just as he hung its strap over his shoulder and began his escape to the road, Eloisa’s front door swung open.

“Mr. Burnham, is that you?”

Standing in Eloisa’s lawn with nowhere to hide, he had no other choice but face her and confess his sins.

“I am very sor…” His words of apology vanished as soon as she came into view. He sucked in a breath, and for the second time in minutes found himself speechless.

She stood a few feet away on her porch. Her hair neatly pulled back from her face. The tiny black lace she wore moments ago, replaced with a pale blue dress that fell to her ankles.

Victor blinked a few times. The fall must have jostled his brain. Or maybe he had blacked out for minutes rather than seconds.

She crossed her arms and tilted her head, eyeing him with suspicion. “Mr. Burnham, is there a reason for your visit?”

He inched closer to the porch and looked past her, into the open door of her home. Empty. Even the table was clear of dishes.

She cleared her throat, drawing his attention to her crystal blue eyes.

Victor rubbed the sore spot on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry to bother you, Ms. Sinclair. I came to deliver the mail and when you weren’t at the box, I worried.”

“That was very kind of you but as you can see, I am fine.”

He leaned to the side for a better view of the living room. Still empty. Victor looked back at the road and then to the house. They must have left while he was unconscious.

She stepped into his path and raised her brows. “Is there any other reason for your visit, Mr. Burnham?”

“Oh. Sorry, yes. There is a reason. I have mail.” Victor dug into the bag. “For you.” He pulled out the letter. “It came today, and I thought you would want it.”

Her eyes widened and when she stretched out her hand to receive the mail, he could have sworn it shook.

Well, she had caught him peeping through her window—a disturbing experience for anyone, much less a single woman. Victor’s cheeks warmed. He dropped the letter in her palm and turned to leave with what little dignity he had left.

“Mr. Burnham?”

He paused dreading what would come next. “Yes?”

“Your head is bleeding. Why don’t you come inside and let me tend to it?”

Eloisa leaned over the scratched wooden table she’d polished to a high gloss, before covering it with the nicest tea towel she owned. She offered the gentleman a warm pastry wrapped sausage.

She managed to contain the eye roll as his gaze shot directly to her cleavage. She’d spent the morning cleaning and preparing, and all they noticed was her breasts. Not that she carried anything of great measure above the waist, but in the teeny tiny maid’s outfit her less than ample bosom was plumped high enough to create quite the spectacle.

She should be mortified.

Unfortunately, she’d lost all sense of humility long ago.

With no other options available, she’d taken matters into her own hands. She’d prepared herself, even before coming to Momence, to do whatever necessary. However, she preferred not to let her mind consider the worst-case scenario, no matter how dire the situation. She needed to pretend that the likelihood of that happening was beyond reason. Everything else she’d suffer through without complaint.

When she’d discovered the house on 19 Ivy Lane, it was like the Good Lord had heard her prayers and sent her a sign. Too bad it didn’t come equipped with the funds to cover the upkeep of the home. The maintenance company had done a fine job with the outside. But she hated that she also needed to worry about appearances inside the house.

Because she knew better than most, that appearances were deceiving.

They certainly fooled her.

What worried her most, at the moment, was that E.B. hadn’t responded to her many pleas. Where the hell was that man? She couldn’t decide if she should be angry or fearful.

In the meantime, the town’s curiosity would be their downfall. Why people couldn’t just mind their own damn business was beyond her. You’d think after all these years, she’d be immune to it.

A breeze blew across her bare behind. Did I leave a window open?

Something wet and a bit rough trailed a path up the back of her thigh towards her…

She spun on her toes, nearly toppling the tray of food onto the lap of another gentleman. She couldn’t remember that one’s name. Though his shy smile and nice eyes didn’t leave her desperate for a shower with scalding hot water.

“Mr. Taylor,” she spit out between clenched teeth. “I told you, no touching.”

He sneered up at her. His cruel grin set her back teeth to grinding. “I simply want to sample the merchandise.”

“I’m not for sale, sir.” How many times would she have to repeat that phrase in her lifetime? Oh, E.B. where are you?

“You may talk like a lady. You may even look like a lady most of the time. But with your ass bared in such a teasing way and your tits on display, you’re not much of a lady… Ma’am.”

If he only knew.

A shift of movement caught her attention, dragging her glare away from the horrid man kneeling at her feet, a grubby hand on his crotch and a dribble of drool running down his chin. The thought that she might be ill, coincided with a surprised gasp as her gaze met that of Victor Burnham’s.

His face, haloed by the setting sun filtering through the large oak across the road, stared at her through her front bay window. The drapes. I forgot about the drapes. His mouth hung open in a big “o”, his eyes round as saucers, his cheeks flushed pink and his fingers spread wide, palms flat against the pane of glass.

She turned her head. Her gaze swept the room seeing it as he did. Damn. She closed her eyes and sighed.

She stood waiting by the gate with a letter, as she did everyday. Victor Burnham readjusted the mailbag on his shoulder and gave her a sad smile. Eloisa refused to acknowledge the sympathy and gave him a wide grin that lit up her deep, blue eyes. She scooped her long, blonde hair back from her face with one slender hand and held out an envelope with the other.

He took it from her and placed it with the rest of the outgoing mail. “Nice weather we’re having for August, don’t ya think?”

“Yes,” she answered, her gaze holding his steady. “Anything for me today?”

He watched her walk up the stairs to the porch, her thin cotton dress swaying around her ankles. The sun shone through the material, and he could see the silhouette of long, slender legs. Who does she write to each night? As he continued his route, he wondered. The look of expectancy on her face told him it had to be a man.

Eloisa Sinclair provided hours of delightful gossip for the small Midwest town of Momence. It seemed she had taken up residence at 19 Ivy Lane almost overnight. The house, vacant for the past ten years, had been taken over by a bank when the owners went bankrupt. A maintenance company out of Chicago kept up the property and replaced the “For Sale” sign each year with a new shiny one. Then one day this past June, the sign was gone. The local realtor said he’d had a phone call from an attorney and given instructions to leave the keys in the mailbox.

Two days later, Ms. Sinclair appeared at the gate and greeted Victor. She handed him a letter addressed to E. B with a post office box in San Diego, California. He mentioned the weather, she answered and their daily routine began. She visited the grocery store once a week, nodded to other patrons but never engaged in conversation. New theories about the town’s mystery woman now surfaced weekly at the local diner.

“I heard she’s a widow and writes to her dead husband,” the waitress told the men at the counter. “She’s waiting for him to answer from the grave.”

“Don’t be silly, her husband is overseas,” another man argued. “Those soldiers never have time to write. The mailman says she’s always smiling. It’s because no news is good news.”

“Someone at the gas station said she’s a floozy from Washington D.C. and hiding out from the press.”

Last week she had been a model, hoping for a reprieve from the paparazzi. With her looks, Victor didn’t doubt that possibility. But he kept his thoughts to himself.

The next day, the postmaster called after him as he headed out on his route. “Burnham, wait a minute. I’ve got something for you.” He waved a cream-colored vellum envelope in the air. “This should make your day. I hope it’s good news for her. ”

The letter, addressed to Ms. Eloisa Sinclair, was written in a bold, male hand with no return label. Hot damn! “Yessir.”

Victor couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. He barely noticed the rain coming down as he made his way up Ivy Lane. He paused for a moment when she was not at the gate. It’s raining, you idiot. Why would she stand out in the rain? But she had done just that on several occasions.

He made his way up the sidewalk, onto the porch and knocked on the door. No answer. He tried again. Still no answer. With a little guilt, he peeked in the picture window, and his mouth fell open in surprise.

Scandalous

“Can I ask you something?” Abby shivered as Reed rounded the desk and took a seat, those fabulous green eyes intent on the mini-lab instead of her.

She ignored the disappointment that crashed over her. Things had been hot. What was with the cooling off? Was he really going to play scientist, instead of trying to ravish her?

He finally looked up, and cocked his dark head to one side, then nodded. “Sure.”

“You’re a vampire, right?”

Again, he nodded. “Not a secret, the whole town kinda is.”

“Why do you have a limp?”

“The bullet was silver, and we didn’t get it out fast enough.” He shrugged as if it was nothing, but something darted across his handsome face and had Abby muttering an apology.

She jumped when he stroked her cheek and one corner of his mouth shot up. Abby hadn’t seen him move—again. She had to order herself not to lean into his touch.

“It was a long time ago, I assure you my skills aren’t lacking.”

“I wouldn’t have come to you if I thought they were.”

“Right. Well, let’s get started.” Reed rubbed his hands together, as if in anticipation and took his previous seat.

“Get started?” That was the second time he’d said that.

“Yes.” He hit some buttons on a machine. Red lights shone, and a whirring sound filled the room.

“I thought you were going to help me.” Abby winced at the desperation in her tone. Her heart sped up, and she fought the urge to look around. She was safe here—despite the fact she was with the most powerful vampire in town. Reed wouldn’t let anything happen to her, would he?

“No, I won’t.”

“You read minds, too?” Shit, she’d have to guard her thoughts.

He chuckled, and the warmth of it was like a caress.

Abby squirmed in the chair and squeezed her thighs tight. Desire settled low. She wanted him. A stranger. A vampire. Hoped like hell he couldn’t tell.

Reed’s smirk, and the flare of his nostrils said otherwise.

Her cheeks warmed, and he the fact that he’d not answered was palpable.

“You and I should work out just fine,” he murmured. His voice dropped. It was thicker, more appealing somehow.

“What’d you mean?” she whispered.

“I don’t want your money.”

She straightened, her longing shooting to anger, and Abby popped to her stilettoed feet. “You said you’d help.”

“So what the hell do you want for payment? I’m not a sex slave. It’s not going to be like that, I don’t care who the hell you think you are.” Her voice rose with each demand, and Abby bristled when Reed came to her side and cupped her face.

He dipped down as if he was going to kiss her.

She stiffened, and cursed her disappointment to hell when his mouth stopped millimeters above hers.

“No worries, little seer, you’ll sleep with me.”

His confidence flared her anger, but Abby couldn’t pull from his hold. He wasn’t hurting her, despite the firm grip. “I will not. And you’re still being obtuse.”

Scandalous

Abby watched Reed’s eyes darken, and at the same time heard the door lock click into place.

Holy shit, batman. She’d heard stories about vampires being able to control stuff with thoughts, but she’d never witnessed it. The other vampires she’d met over the years had been too eager to stay under the radar, keep their secret powers secret.

“Um…what do you think you’re doing?” She had a pretty good idea, but there was no way in hell she was going to be this guy’s breakfast. Even if he was drop dead gorgeous. Damn, poor choice of words.

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I have in mind.” He crossed to a wall cabinet and took out a metal tray holding medical equipment. “But first we need to take care of preliminary screening.” He snapped on a pair of blue surgical gloves.

She tried to laugh. This wasn’t really happening, was it? “Shouldn’t we just ask each other about our sexual history or something?”

He grinned. “Oh we’ll get to that too. Now be a good girl and roll up your sleeve.”

She was used to weird shit, given the weirdoes she hung around with, and the even weirder weirdoes she encountered as Sitara. She rolled up the sleeve of her blouse and turned her head away.

“This won’t hurt a bit.” He chuckled as he tied a strip of rubber around her arm. “Well, this part won’t hurt. And I’ve yet to hear complaints from my other…lovers.”

“I’m not hiring you to be my—” She jumped as the needle pierced her flesh. So much for not hurting. She dared a glance at her arm and was surprised to see him filling a third vial. “What the hell do you need all that blood for?”

He deftly finished and sat again behind the desk. Seeming to ignore her question, he divided the blood from one tube into other tubes and added drops of various liquids. Then, he pulled off his gloves.

“Now, we have time to chat. When was your last sexual encounter, and with whom?”

“Look, I want you as a bodyguard, not a gigolo.” Not that she would kick him out of her bed, but he was taking all the romance out of it.

Without seeming to move, he appeared at her side, clasped her arms and pulled her from the chair. His nostrils flared as he leaned closer. Close enough for her to feel the cold heat from his body. Whoa, that didn’t make any sense. How was heat cold?

“I don’t smell a man on you.”

All she could do was shake her head. She looked into his eyes, dark and mysterious, and couldn’t look away. A feeling of peace, contentment, comfort filled her mind, and body. Hell, she felt fabulous, like she was floating on a warm cloud of massaging brilliance. He lowered his head toward her neck, and she tensed. Shit, this was really happening, and she didn’t care. She wanted to stay on the cloud. But, all she felt was the soft brush of his lips.

“Relax, my sweet. You will know when it’s time.” He gently bit her earlobe and released her arms, letting her settle in the chair. She wanted to cry.

He glanced at the small laboratory atop his desk and smiled. “Yes, very good. Let’s get started.”

Scandalous

Episode 4 by Angie Daniels

Website: http://angiedaniels.com/

Reed was usually all about business, but once Abby started gnawing on her bottom lip, he’d barely heard another word she’d said. They were full, lush, and parted slightly, revealing the tip of her tongue as she drew the flesh between her teeth.

She had no idea the things he yearned to do with that delectable mouth.

And then, there was her feminine scent that was driving him fucking nuts. The fragrance was amber and lemongrass with the faintest hint of blood. She’d recently cut her leg—probably shaving—sending his appetite burning.

Damn, he’d love to kiss her wound and make it all better.

Hunger roared through him as his eyes perused a slender frame with enough tantalizing curves to make a man want to drop to his knees and give thanks… among other things.

Watching her, smelling her, Reed felt a rage of heat rushing through his veins that landed right smack at his groin, causing his cock to throb something fierce.

While she explained her dilemma, he found himself imagining how wild and wicked Abby could behave once she lost that restraint. She seemed to be the type of woman who possessed fire and will, and he wanted to know what turned her on. Already, he anticipated hours and hours of wicked pleasure.

Oh, he could hardly wait.

“Have you heard a word I said?” Abby barked, bringing him back into the conversation.

Reed slowly rose from the chair and frowned. “No, I’m afraid I have not,” he began, and when her eyes flashed dark fire, a smile curled his lips. “However, once we’ve discussed price, and you agree to my terms, then I’m all ears.”

Abby tilted her head to one side and sent curls bouncing around her face as she threw him an arched look. “Money is not an issue.”

Before he could respond, she slid the leather strap off her shoulder, unzipped the purse, and emptied the entire contents onto the cluttered wooden desk with a loud thump. Eyes wide, Reed stared down at the large bundles of cash. There had to be several thousand dollars right before his eyes, and yet the money was nowhere near as tempting as the woman sitting across from him.

“I think that should be more than enough,” she decided, her brown eyes glittering confidently.

“Really?” he murmured. As he gazed at her, Abby then made the mistake of nervously nibbling on her bottom lip again, only this time her teeth sank into the tender pink flesh, drawing just the slightest drop of blood. However, for a vampire it was more than enough to cause his lips to curl back and his fangs to show as he snorted a laugh.

“No, I’m afraid that won’t work,” Ó he began as he rounded the desk, taking one step and then another. “I want something else.”

“Something else?” Abby repeated, and then Reed heard the sharp intake of air as it hissed through her teeth. It was clear she knew which direction the conversation was headed.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Tell me what you want,” she demanded breathlessly.

Scandalous

Episode 3 by Mina Khan

Website: http://minakhan.blogspot.com/

Good thing Abby had plenty of experience with challenges. She didn’t like them necessarily, but she never backed off from one. Squaring her shoulders, she met his glare and smiled. “We’ll see about that.”

A glint of interest sparked in his eyes as his lips twitched into a shadow of a smile. A smile that did nothing to cut the dark broodiness of his features or the thick tension in the room. Just made him look more…big, bad, and dangerous. She swallowed as her heart sprinted. Were those fangs peeking out over his full sensuous lips? Oh, yes. Good, so he really was a vampire.

“Not that you don’t have a smokin’ hot bod, but why does it need guarding?”

Heat rushed across her skin at his blunt words and roaming gaze, but she kept her chin up. “Perhaps I should have introduced myself by my professional name, Sitara the Seer at your service.”

He guffawed at that. “You don’t look much like your pictures.”

Yeah, well. Uncle Dave, her manager, guardian, and only-living relative, insisted on stage presence. He thought exotic and mysterious sold better so the fancy name, the heavy makeup, the gaudy jewelry, and dressing in silk, and gauze outfits straight out of somebody’s harem fantasy. Everything about Sitara the Seer was a sham except for the ability to see the future.

Still smirking, Reed crossed beefy arms across his impressive chest. “So tell me what am I going to do next?”

“You’re going to offer me coffee and a seat.”

“Because that’s what the Universe is showing you?”

“No,” she said. “Because that’s the polite thing to do.”

“I like you.” He grinned and waved at a pair of straight back chairs sitting in front of his desk. “Make yourself comfortable. How do you take your coffee?”

“Black,” Abby said, lowering herself into a seat. Her skirt slid up as she crossed her legs. His eyes widened and followed every move. A very female sense of satisfaction filled her and she turned away to hide her smile.

Within moments, he’d placed her coffee by her and claimed the big leather chair on the other side of the desk. He leaned forward, hands clasped. “So what’s the story?”

Abby flashed him a pointed look and continued. “He usually wants me to pick lottery numbers or race horses, favorable dates for business and such things. I knew he was involved in some shady deals, but this time…” She choked up on the rest of words and had to take another swallow of coffee.

“This time?” Reed picked up a pen and tapped on the desk top like a demented woodpecker.

She swallowed and met his cool green gaze. “He asked me if he should go into a new international venture. This time, I saw death. Not his, but that of other people at his hands.”

Reed made the time out sign. “Wait, you expect me to believe you actually saw a vision.”

“Yes, and because of that vision I’m now in danger.” Was that breathy voice coming from her? She cleared her throat.

Scandalous

Episode 2 by Valerie Twombly

Website: http://www.valerietwombly.com/

Abby hadn’t been prepared when the door swung open, and Reed Evans greeted her wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and thick black hair that looked as though he’d been ridden hard. She stared into his blazing green eyes and would have melted if not for the fact he looked madder than a bull who’d just lost his nuts.

“Mr. Evans?” What a stupid question. Of course he was, but she’d suddenly lost her nerve.

“Who wants to know?” he growled.

“My name’s Abby Livingston and I’m here on business. May I come in?”

“Woman, you do realize what time it is?” At least he stepped aside, which was a positive sign.

“I am sorry.” She walked through the door, and it was then she spotted a blonde wearing a tee that was three sizes too small. Most likely the woman––if you could call her that––was the reason he looked so rough. Abby pulled back her shoulders and glided across the carpet with the grace and manners her southern grannie would be proud of. She heard the click of the door behind her and when she turned, the girl was gone. No doubt, scooted out and sent on her way with a wad of cash in hand.

Time to get to the point. “Mr. Evans. I find myself in need of a bodyguard, and I was told you’re the best.”

He tipped his head back and laughed. “Oh shit.” Rubbing his temples he glared at her and grabbed a shirt from the back of a chair and shoved his arms through the sleeves. It was a shame to cover up such male perfection, but better for their conversation.

“You should have also been told that I haven’t been in the business since…”

“Yes. Since you took a bullet to the leg. I know.” She shifted her weight. Why the hell had she decided it would be a great idea to wear heels? Sneakers and jeans were more her style, but she’d thought a short skirt and pumps would go further at showcasing her long legs than pants. She’d taken great care with her appearance before she came. After all, if Reed Evans knew she grew up on the poor side of town he’d never agree to help her.

He poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table and took a long sip. “So you know then that this is a waste of your time?”

“I was also told you never turn down a damsel in distress.” She adjusted the strap of her purse. The one that carried her life savings and she hoped would be enough for at least a down payment on his services. After that, well…she’d figure it out.

Scandalous

He mentally struggled with whether to get up and eat or to lay comatose.

Comatose felt good.

Eating would mean dealing with his cotton-dry mouth and the insistent pounding at his hotel door.

He rolled over in his king-sized bed and cracked an eye open. His gaze landed on a plate stacked with strips of bacon, and a mountain of scrambled eggs slathered in Tabasco sauce—just the way he liked them.

He’d eaten the same breakfast ever since he’d bought this hotel years ago. Everything was as it should be, except for the idiot at his door. Who had the balls to disturb him after a night of…hell, what had he been doing last night?

His mind barreled through his memory bank until he remembered. Oh yeah, he’d gotten shitfaced with his cousin, Willard and his brother, Bubba. He could hold his liquor better than the average man, but last night he had a good reason for getting tanked.

Grumbling, he tossed his sheets aside and slid out of the bed stark naked. He yanked on a pair of jeans he found discarded on the carpet in the bedroom of his suite. He hobbled barefoot to the front room, but he pulled up short when he saw a buxom blonde sit up on the couch and wipe the sleep from her eyes. The words, Big Tits Ain’t a Crime stretched across the front of her tight t-shirt.

Incredulous, he rasped, “What the hell are you doing here, Anita?”

She yawned. “Hope you don’t mind, Reed. I crashed on your couch. But don’t worry. You and me didn’t do nuthin’. You was too drunk.”

Thank God! Sex was so much better when he had the memories to rewind.

“I don’t have to be at work for a few hours,” she added, a flicker of hope dancing across her cherub face. “I got time for a quickie.”

Anita was a maid at his hotel. In addition to her irritating habit of using her key to get into his room, she was also engaged to Willard. Reed enjoyed a good fuck, but not at the expense of someone’s fiancé.

“Some other time,” he lied as he walked with a slight limp toward the door. The hangover was temporary. The limp wasn’t. Most everybody in town knew how he’d sustained his injury. Women thought the cane he used was sexy. There was no accounting for female reasoning. His family had run this town for three generations. Power was one hell of an aphrodisiac.

He hoped Willard wasn’t on the other side of that door with a a pair of steel knuckles. Of course, it could be the police, too. He’d been known to raise hell during a night of drinking. But, he didn’t take the cops seriously. He’d gone to middle school with half of ‘em and played varsity football with the other half.

When he opened the door, he stared into the face of a strange woman. She was graced with high cheekbones, a mane of raven hair, and a long, slender neck he would love to sink his teeth into. Her stunning sable skin was marred only by the tight scowl she gave him. It was obvious she had a bone to pick. Adam had already sacrificed a rib for men everywhere. Reed would be damned if he let this beauty take one of his.